


He Called Him Bimbo

by islandkate



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Coronation, Durin’s Day 2020, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27050251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandkate/pseuds/islandkate
Summary: It’s been a year since the battle to win back Erebor.  Everyone survived and it’s time to officially crown their king.  You can be sure it will be an event no one will forget.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Bofur/Nori (Tolkien), Fíli/Kíli (Tolkien)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 47
Collections: GatheringFiki - Durin's Day 2020





	He Called Him Bimbo

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Estethell](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Estethell/gifts).



Kíli crossed one leg over the other and leaned heavily on Dori. “I don’t know Fíli, all this pomp and fuss seems a bit much. What do you think?”

The older dwarf was trying to pin sapphire colored velvet so that the garment it would eventually become fit the youngest prince perfectly. He harrumphed and Kíli snapped back to an attentive, erect posture.

Fíli laughed, “I think that if you ruin Balin’s plans, he’ll complain to Thorin. Then Thorin will complain about Balin’s complaining to Bilbo. Bilbo will eventually ferret out the root of the story and you’ll be getting none of his muffins for a fortnight.”

Kíli looked appropriately horrified at the consequences his brother laid out and decided to embrace the coronation with full enthusiasm. He just had to survive being a living pincushion for Dori’s tailoring first.

Fíli’s fitting was already completed. His own velvet tunic lay carefully folded in a small casket off to one side. He’d nearly lost patience while Dori marked out all the trails to be embroidered. With the usual dwarven lack of modesty among family, he was dressing right there across the room. All members of the company, after their experience, considered each other family. They had adopted a saying that family isn’t blood, it’s who you’d bleed for. And they had bled plenty for one another. 

He pulled a shirt over his head and returned to talking with Nori. “Have you thought anymore about that thing we discussed earlier?”

Nori blushed, a sight few ever saw, “I don’t know, Fíli,” he paused to check and make sure Dori wasn’t listening, “everyone likes him. How do I know that what I feel is different and that he feels the same?”

“You have to talk to him. Trust me, communication is almost everything.” He looked over at Kíli and smiled. His brother happened to look up at the same time and winked at him before doing a suggestive shimmy that earned him a poke with a pin. Fíli laughed again.

Nori observed, for maybe the millionth time, the easy way messages passed between the princes. “How do I just talk about…” His voice trailed off.

“You’re the Spymaster, make it a mission. Spy on him. Get to know him. Approach him like an asset. Just not the kind of asset you share.” Fíli smirked, knowing he’d found the right key.

Nori grinned. “That’s it!” He hugged his friend, hugged his brother, hugged his other friend, and ran out the door leaving Dori sputtering about impulsive younger brothers.

Across the cavernous tumnu reserved for the suites of the royal family, Bilbo sat stitching his own new waistcoat for the coronation ceremony. Dís herself had embroidered the garnet colored velvet with golden leaves and flowers in honor of his homeland, The Shire. He had allowed Dori to make his coat.

“I don’t know, Thorin, are you sure you want to spring all these titles on them at the Coronation? Isn’t it supposed to be about you?”

“My dearest burglar, I thought you especially would be in favor of getting it all done in one go and avoiding further ceremonies.”

“Quite right, dear, quite right,” Bilbo acceded.

“That’s why I’m the king,” Thorin joked.

Bilbo chuckled, “Go on then, read me the list.”

Thorin shuffled a bit in his chair, getting comfortable, then pulled out a parchment with their notes. “Let’s see,” he brought the paper a bit closer to better read, “King, Heir, Heir, Consort...” He stopped and gave Bilbo a besotted smile.

Bilbo cut in, despite the look, “I still think you should announce the boys’ official courtship as Fíli requested.”

“We shall see. I must discuss that with the council.”

“Council, schmouncil! The council is entirely members of the company. Many of them have known them since infancy. Which one of them would see them parted?”

“You are also on the council, dearest, you will have your say.”

“So is your lady sister. I wonder what she will say.”

Thorin paled. Then changed the subject. “So the list covers titles for the company and official appointments for what is currently being done as needed. For instance, Dwalin will be appointed High Constable. Lodging privileges here in the royal tumnu will be included.”

Bilbo snorted, “Oh joy, front row seats to the Ori/Dwalin/Dís show.”

Thorin side-eyed his husband.

“Balin is to be appointed High Chancellor. Glóin will be made High Treasurer. Dwalin we covered. Óin will be named Lord High Physician. Dori will be named our Great Chamberlin. Bifur will be made Niblings Ambassador. Nori will be officially named Earl Marshal, but that’s mostly for plausible deniability. Ori will be appointed our Grand Secretary. Bofur we’ll make our Mayor of Ceremony - he can deal with party planning and Balin’s customs and traditions. And Bombur, as much as my tastebuds want him in the kitchen, Bombur is an architect and will be Master Builder.”

“And all of them here? Bombur and his herd may need their own whole tumnu. But, I love that you used niblings. It is such a convenient catchall phrase to describe all the nieces, nephews, cousins, and younger siblings that are always underfoot,” Bilbo put down his stitching and got up. He walked the few steps to Thorin’s side and pulled him up from the chair. “Enough for now, let’s take a nap.”

Thorin let the paper flutter to the floor, “Maybe we can pretend to make some niblings?”

Bilbo giggled as they closed the bedroom door.

Far from sleepy, Balin was buzzing with excitement. For too long, the dwarves of Erebor had been denied their treasury full of gems as well as sufficient time and materials to work their crafts. Consequently, the new crowns for their beloved royals were a bit overboard. Putting aside the heavy raven crown of Thror, a new crown made just for Thorin sat before him. It sparkled with hundreds of sapphires, spinels, lapis lazuli, and moonstones - for the moon runes that led them to the door. The base metal was gold and the stones arranged in repeating patterns of Thorin’s personal sigil. Designed to sit on the brow without pressure, it was far lighter than usual dwarven crowns. However, it retained the impressive size and deeply lined identifying characteristics for which dwarvish art and jewelry was known.

Nearby, Fíli’s coronet for the heir sat clamped in a vise. Similarly designed to Thorin’s but half the height, it too had a gold metal base. His sigil was worked in a repeating pattern of sapphires. At intervals around the top, the heir sigil pointed above the main line of the crown. Kíli’s was nearly identical, but his sigil was worked in spinels on platinum without the raised pieces.

Bilbo’s consort crown was something else altogether. Based on a traditional Shire woven wheat straw pattern of leaves and flowers sent by the Thain himself, the design had been worked in silver to sit as a wreath nestled in Bilbo’s curls. The sheaves of wheat were formed of citrines. Emeralds in varying hues created leaves and stems. The flowers were a riot of rubies, amethysts, and aquamarines.

A casket of Princess Dís’ jewels had been found deep in the treasury. They were being cleaned and repaired to be returned to her. A spectacular pre-exile, many-pointed diadem of gold, diamonds, and sapphires that had belonged to her mother was readied for her use at the Coronation festivities. She had chosen it herself, with tears in her eyes.

It had taken Glóin and a large team of Dáin’s best soldiers two solid months to catalog, contain, and organize the hoard strewn across the treasury floor. Once it was finished, Óin allowed the still-healing princes out of bed to join the company in deciding how to divide it.

“It’s too much,” Bofur finally said, staring at the staggering amount of wealth before them, “Instead of a fourteenth share each, let us set aside a stack as wide as Bombur…” there were snickers from Bifur, “and as tall as Dwalin for each of us. Let the rest be used to rebuild Dale and Esgaroth and the reputation of Erebor as a silver fountain.”

The company heartily agreed. Further suggesting that items which could be identified as to their original owners be returned to those families. Even after all that, there was more than the dwarves could need for ten generations.

While Balin reveled in the bejeweled finery, Kíli delighted in the chaos that was Bombur trying to teach Fíli the subtlety of lighting a Bombe Flambé. His beloved blond was much more inclined to just smash the small torch into the mound of dessert like it was an orc’s head. Bombur, back in the kitchen to make this one surprise for Thorin, insisted that he flourish it gently and light the elvish brandy without leaving a mark.

Free from any other duties, fittings, or other entanglements for several hours, Kíli leaned back into the large wooden chair at the kitchen table. He relished the opportunity to just relax.

Bofur joined him with two cups of tea. He sunk into the chair opposite Kíli sounding even more exhausted. Ahead of the coronation guests proper, an enormous horde of Hobbits had arrived to restore Erebor’s fields and gardens. He was close to collapse from too much agitation between trying to assist Balin with Coronation preparations as well as simultaneously trying to supervise the multitude of Hobbits running around the mountain doing things. “Oh, Mahal,” he sighed, “too much bilbos to control.”

Kíli reached across the table and slapped his friend on the shoulder, “No one can do it better than you, my friend.”

Bombur screamed. Fíli’s tunic was on fire! Kíli leapt from his chair, tackled his brother, dropping them both to the ground and rolling themselves over, smothering the flames. From his place atop Fíli on the floor, he pushed up and gently licked the shell of Fíli’s ear. “Move the torch like you’re touching me,” he breathed into that same ear.

Fíli shivered.

Kíli got up and bumped shoulders with Fíli who had also stood. They shared a knowing smile.

“Let me try one more time,” Fíli told Bombur.

“I need a quick break, lad. Make us a cuppa. I’ll be back in a jif.” Bombur staggered a bit as he moved out the door.

Bofur raised his eyebrows at Kíli as the younger dwarf rejoined him at the table. “He’s gone to change his pants,” Bofur laughed, “Not sure what scared him more, having to tell Dís or Bilbo that he broke Fíli.”

Kíli threw his head back and laughed out loud. Both images were terrifying, but trying to picture poor Bombur in that situation was just ridiculous.

Bifur shrugged and sipped his tea.

Kíli caught his breath, took a deep drink from his cup, and looked at Bofur conspiratorially. “So… I heard that you and Nori…”

Bofur’s face exploded in a bright tomato color.

“Ah, so it’s true,” Kíli smiled, “Are you courting yet?”

Bofur snorted. “He knows everyone. He’s traveled and had adventures. He has his choice of anyone he wants. Why would he want a simple miner like me?”

“Well,” Kíli started, “You are far from a simple miner. You are charming and tell fine stories. You know the best entertainments and you throw the very best parties.”

Bofur smiled.

“You have to talk to him. Make it a game. Sneak around and try to surprise him. He’ll be impressed when you catch him.”

There was a sudden whoosh of flame across the room. Then joyous whooping from Fíli.

“See,” Kíli said to Bofur, “I whispered to him a way to make that a game and it worked. It will work for you too.”

With a mischievous look, Bofur slammed down his cup, winked at his friend, and took off.

Several weeks later, Dori caught Bofur and Nori making out behind the throne during the first rehearsal. Fíli and Kíli pretended to be aghast. They were actually relieved. Their first thought upon hearing Dori’s cries of “Desecration!” and “...abuse of station…” was that someone had seen the two of them making out on the throne itself the night before and reported them.

Thorin waved it off. He had plans to make out on the throne with Bilbo if the room was ever available. Frankly, he was exhausted by the endless repetition of the rehearsals. At that very moment, Fíli and Kíli were prancing their way down the center aisle in fluttering silver robes to some elvish minuet. Dáin was laughing uproariously and had likely bribed the musicians. Thorin felt a headache coming on.

Balin slumped into one of the guest chairs. He felt beaten. He definitely had a headache. There was nothing else to do. He called for lunch.

Gimli arrived, with his mother, just in time to join the luncheon. Fíli, Kíli, and Ori were thrilled. They had so much to catch up on! The hot gossip was still how Bofur and Nori got busted by Dori making out behind the throne. Their claim that they were just drunk was passed from dwarf to dwarf with a wink and a nudge. Every time they heard the story, Fíli and Kíli made faces and congratulated each other, glad they themselves hadn’t gotten caught.

Ori snorted as the two young princes relayed the story to their younger cousin, Gimli. The four had been schoolmates for years and were deep in each others’ pockets. They had no secrets. Ori knew that they had made out ON the throne, more than once. All three cousins acted completely scandalized by Ori’s declaration that he had seen one session with his own eyes. Then the four of them dissolved in laughter and promised to keep that secret like so many other tales of mischief. Ori promised to show them the good hiding places and secret passages that Dwalin remembered of old and had recently shared with him.

Glóin’s wife, Moira, eyed the four from her seat next to Dís far across the room. “They’re up to something. I can feel it.” She scowled.

Dís sipped her wine and narrowed her eyes at her children and their companions. “They are always up to something. Do you know that they dared to make out ON THE THRONE two nights ago. And they have the audacity to believe that they got away with it.”

“No!”

“They have no idea where the good hiding places are. It’s going to be fun watching them figure it out.”

Both dwarrowdams cackled conspiratorially.

On Dís’ other side, her brother Thorin complained to Bilbo that he might explode if they had to have one more rehearsal. Bilbo patted his hand and assured him that this afternoon session was indeed the last. The king turned to his sister and begged her to convince her sons to take this next practice seriously so they could finally be done. She patted his hand too, and nodded before returning to plotting with Moira.

True to her word, Fíli and Kíli marked through their paces perfectly on the next run through. In fact, everyone and everything went perfectly until Thorin, as he lovingly placed an old coronet of Frerin’s, one that they were using to practice and include the lost prince’s memory in the occasion, on his beloved hobbit’s head and called him Bimbo.

Chaos erupted. Gimli and Dáin, sitting in the back row for sound check, literally fell on the ground and rolled against each other crying with laughter. Balin face palmed and flopped into the nearest chair. Dís and Moira clinked glasses and went on drinking. Dwalin threw his hands in the air and stalked off to find a drink. Glóin and Bifur hurried after him. Clearly, the rehearsal was over.

Fíli and Kíli were glad to be done and it wasn’t their fault. They grabbed hands and escaped before anyone could find something else for them to do.

Bofur and Nori slipped away together in the confusion.

For everyone but Dori, the night was quiet and relaxing. Or their nocturnal activities left them relaxed if not quiet. In any case, Dori was nearly overwhelmed by the amount of blue velvet in the workroom. Every outfit was made of the same material. Only design, fit, and embroidery differentiated one from another. Thank Mahal for the inspiration to stitch the name of the wearer in the neckline of each garment. They were so close to finished now. All the stitching was done. Jewelers had come to set their portions of the decorations. He was on time and on plan. He was still nervous.

Despite nerves, mistakes, plotting dwarrowdams, and lusty couples sneaking about, everything came together for the big day. Breakfast arrived in everyone’s rooms promptly at seven in the morning. The Thain’s gift had been hobbits taking over the kitchens for the day, including the banquet. He was Bilbo’s grandfather, after all. And who in their right mind refused hobbit food?

Fíli and Kíli had become notoriously slow abed since their convalescence and had barely finished their breakfast when Second Breakfast arrived. Kíli whispered to the hobbit delivering the largess and she quickly made the apple hand pies disappear, leaving only tea and fruit with clotted cream. Fíli was in the bath and never even smelled them. But the tray of fruit and cream made their morning bath much more enjoyable.

Dori snagged one of the passing rejected pies as he hurried to Dwalin to repair a last minute tear. He didn’t want to know, just stitched it up quickly and shooed Ori back to finish dressing with him and Nori.

Bombur’s children destroyed the honey cakes served for Elevensies in less than five minutes.

Luncheon was the last meal served before assembly for the Coronation ceremony. Everyone stopped in their individual suites with whomever they shared them and ate a proper meal. The knowledge that after this simple meal of stewed hare with root vegetables and herbed dumplings, everything would change. Thankfully, the hobbits had sent pots of calming lavender chamomile tea to soothe nervous anxiety.

In the Throne Room, banquet tables lined the walls. Each heavily loaded with either teas, milks, and sweeteners or pastries. A selection had been placed out for guests arriving during tea time. There were several tables each of carrot cakes, plum heavies, shortbread, ginger snaps, bannocks, and hot cross buns.

In the council drawing room, where the royal family and company were gathering, there were tables loaded with far more food than they could eat. They had several flavors of hot buttered scones. The extras were designed to be reused the next day when hangovers would undoubtedly reduce cooking skills.

At length, Balin signaled a page. A few minutes later, a horn fanfare trumpeted and the noises of shuffling and chairs scraping on the floor sounded under the door for a few minutes. After that, all they could hear was the murmuring of small talk.

Balin smiled nervously. “Very well. Here we go. Dori, Nori, Ori, remember that you are on the right in front of Gandalf, Galadriel, Elrond and whoever they’ve brought with them. Óin, Glóin, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, remember that you’re on the left in front of Thranduil, Bard, and whoever they’ve brought with them.”

Fíli looked at Thorin and mouthed ‘ELVES!’

Thorin grimaced back at him.

Bilbo snapped them both with his damp handkerchief.

After closing the door behind that group, Balin intended to wrangle the rest into order. To his great surprise, they were already formed up when he turned around. Thorin stood with Bilbo on his arm, followed by Dwalin escorting Dís, and Fíli with Kíli behind them.

Each look resplendent in their almost matching formal velvet tunics. Like those that had just left, the fabric reached to the floor, tailored to show off each’s figure to best effect. Lines of embroidered signet patterns flowed across each garment. Between the lines, jeweled appliqués created intricate motifs meant to display some special qualities or accomplishments of that individual.

Kíli’s hair was braided. It was a miracle.

Balin stood with his mouth agape.

All six of them grinned.

“Come, Bimbo,” Thorin snickered, “Let us go.”

Balin opened the door and watched them leave. He stood in shock until he heard the fanfare of their arrival at the entrance. Then he shook it off and hurried through the side door to his place behind the throne.

The royal family made a stately progress up the center aisle, smiling and acknowledging well wishers in the audience. At the end, Thorin mounted the dais and took the center, slightly larger throne. He was glad they had redesigned Thror’s throne to be more accessible. Bilbo sat on his left. Dís took her seat next to Bilbo while Dwalin circled behind to stand with his brother. Fíli stepped up and took his seat on Thorin’s right, guiding Kíli to the seat next to him.

Balin stepped out with a large sheaf of parchments and began the ceremony. Bilbo was probably listening. The rest just waited to hear their name before actually paying attention.

After many minutes, Thorin was called to kneel before the throne and give his oath to govern justly, provide law and justice with mercy, and to preserve peace whenever possible. After that, Dís placed the new gold, blue gem, and moonstone crown on his head. She looked so beautiful in the diadem that had belonged to their mother that tears came to his eyes. She wiped away the single one that slipped free with a kiss to his cheek. Before he could even stand and turn, the assembly exploded with applause, shouts, hoots, and yells. He smiled somewhat shyly at all the attention, ducking briefly when Fíli and Kíli slipped an ermine cape over his shoulders.

Eventually, the adulation died down and they were able to go on. Thorin still stood on the dais but took a step back for Dwalin to place a pillow at his feet. Balin called Bilbo’s name and the very nervous hobbit appeared before Thorin. He knelt on the pillow. What was said will never be known, because the large contingent of Bilbo’s relatives became so excited at the first glimpse of the dwarven silver and gemstone interpretation of their traditional wheatgrass wreath that their noisy approval drowned out everything. Normally boisterous dwarves were impressed by the display.

Thorin kissed Bilbo as he led him back to his seat, starting the roar all over again. Bilbo was forced to stand and wave his family off so the ceremony could continue. Dwarves heartily congratulated hobbits all over the room.

Balin called Fíli and the audience became attentive. The young blond prince promised to govern justly, provide law and justice with mercy, and to preserve peace whenever possible, he further promised to uphold the lawful orders of his king and represent the voice of the people. Raising the golden heir coronet above Fíli’s head as the prince knelt, Thorin announced that Fíli would henceforth be known as The Lion of Erebor, Crown Prince of our great Kingdom Under The Mountain. The crowd held its breath as the coronet lowered. The moment it settled in the golden waves, loud cheers erupted again. Fíli stood and smiled at the people. He looked to Kíli who was beaming with pride. Everyone on the dais beamed. Gandalf, and most of the elves looked smug, knowing that the finest king the line of Durin would ever produce stood before them and the peace and security of Middle Earth rested within him.

In the hope of satisfying the crowd and moving on, Fíli held his hand out to Kíli and looked to Thorin. Thorin nodded to Balin to continue. Fíli held the brunet prince’s hand as he knelt on the pillow and then moved a few steps aside.

Like Fíli, Kíli promised to govern justly, provide law and justice with mercy, and to preserve peace whenever possible, he too further promised to uphold the lawful orders of his king and represent the voice of the people.

“And for the Crown Prince?” Thorin asked.

Kíli wasn’t ready for that. He blushed to the tips of his ears. He looked up at Fíli who smiled at him serenely. Kíli stammered at the beginning and then became stronger as his emotions took over, “I promise to give him that which is mine to give; to serve him in those ways he requires; that it shall be only his name I cry out in the night, and into his eyes that I smile each morning. I shall be a shield for his back as he is for mine. Above all, I will cherish and honor him, through this life and into the next where we shall meet, remember, and love again.”

Except for some sniffling, you could hear a pin drop.

Thorin handed Kíli’s coronet to Fíli who placed the platinum mate to his own on Kíli’s head as Thorin said, “By the Crown Prince’s hand, I crown my sister-son Kíli, son of Dís, Prince of Erebor and consort of The Lion of Erebor.”

Once again the crowd exploded. No one was going to be able to talk the next day. He’d have to declare a holiday.

Fíli drew Kíli up and into his arms and kissed him before they retreated to their seats.

Now Balin called forth Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur. The crowd clapped politely, not sure what was happening. Thorin spoke of the brothers’ loyalty and honor. How they had given up their crafts and places in Ered Luin to follow him on the quest when so many relations had ignored his call. As such, they were now officially adopted as members of the Durin family. Bombur was appointed Master Builder and created Baron Ravenhill. Next, Bofur was appointed Mayor of Ceremony and created Baron Himling. The oldest of their family, Bifur, was appointed Niblings Ambassador and created Earl of Lune. Each was given a place in the Royal Tumnu for themselves and their family. Fíli and Kíli descended the steps and mingled with them while forming them into a line.

No one expected such generosity and the audience reacted with loud appreciation.

Dori, Nori, and Ori were called next. Balin pointed out that they were being recognized as Durins being a direct, if unsanctioned, line from Nain. Nori made a joke to Dori about still being a bastard and got cuffed behind the ear for it. Fíli and Kíli figured out what he said and snickered, passing the news down the line. Despite the slight breach that left Balin and Dwalin rolling their eyes, they eventually got on with it. Ori was appointed Grand Secretary and made Baron Luin. Nori was appointed Earl Marshal and created Viscount of the Eastern Spur. Dori was appointed Great Chamberlin and created Marquess of Mazarbul. Again, each was given a place in the Royal Tumnu for themselves and their family.

More generosity and more raucous applause.

Fíli and Kíli managed them into the proper line order while things continued.

Glóin and Óin came next. Óin didn’t hear his name and Thranduil enjoyed poking him a bit too much. Balin reminded the assembly that the two were beloved cousins, having served Thorin throughout the exile. To no one’s surprise, Glóin was appointed High Treasurer and created Marquess of Mithlond. Óin was appointed Lord High Physician and created Duke of the Withered Heath. Gimli was given the courtesy title Earl Redhorn. That made Dáin stand up in his chair and cheer for the young dwarf who was rapidly becoming his favorite. Another round of joyful noise erupted, drowning out the last remark about lodgings.

Bilbo took over the sheaf of papers as Balin and Dwalin had their turn to be called at last as the closest relatives to Thorin besides his sister and the princes. Dwalin immediately fell to one knee before his lifelong friend and King. Balin bowed deeply. Thorin bid them rise, reminding them that they had served his father and grandfather, and how honored he was to have them serve him. Presently, Dwalin was appointed High Constable and created Marquess of Framburg. Balin was appointed High Chancellor and made Duke of the Gray Mountains. Like all the others, they too were given leave to royal lodgings.

As the two brothers descended the steps, overwhelmed with Thorin’s generosity and unable to hear anything over the deafening roar of the crowd, Fíli and Kíli met them with the rest of the company and stood everyone in a single file line facing the crowd. Fíli glanced up at Thorin who called for quiet.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, allow me to present my royal council. Speak to them if you cannot reach me. They are my trusted representatives.”

The screaming and applause continued until Bilbo stood on his chair, whistled, and yelled, “Oy! Who’s hungry?”

Thankfully, those on or near the thrones were able to make a dignified exit through the council chamber. Because the sedate procession Balin had planned became a stampede as hungry dwarves and hobbits made for the Gallery of Kings. There was no other place large enough. Trestle tables had been brought in and decorations hung on the wall. The statues and solid gold floor made a fine sight.

Gandalf, Bard and his family, all the elves, the Company, and the Royals had reserved tables at one end of the gallery. It made their entrance much more manageable. Once they were seated, the feast began.

The first course was Mushroom, Beef, and Onion Mini Pies served with a good Burgundy sent from Rohan. Thorin took the blessed moment of silence to announce that the Viscount of the Eastern Spur and the Baron Himling were a couple and thus off the market. The news was greeted with a chorus of disappointed sighs. Knives clinked against glasses and the two blushed tomato red but shared a brief kiss to the cheers of almost everyone assembled. Thranduil made his usual sour face.

The next course was a Mushroom Soup accompanied by more Burgundy. This time, the wine was a gift from Gondor.

For the fish course, a lovely Lemon and Pepper Baked Bass with Asparagus was served with a Riesling gifted by the Iron Hills. The fish were fresh caught by the people of Dale that very morning.

When the Roast Rack of Lamb appeared, there was much oohing and aahing. And more Riesling, Dáin had brought a lot.

Despite the fact that normally dwarves eschewed green things, hobbits had no such compunction. They would have their salad course. Besides, the Rivendell Elves were practically starving. The Beet Salad with Honey and Goat Cheese and still more Riesling was completely devoured.

Unlike salad, Dwarves loved cheese. According to some, they ate it by the block. The Brie served for the cheese course was no exception. It was gone, fast. In fact, it represented the entire production of the Shire for the year. The Thain was glad they had left the Camembert behind. Finally out of Riesling, the champagne corks began popping with this course.

As always, the penultimate course was dessert. The hobbits had graciously allowed Bombur into the kitchen to supervise the creation of Thorin’s favorite dessert from childhood. It was a closely guarded secret. As the bombes were rolled out, they stopped in front of each destination but none were opened until after surprising Thorin.

Bombur stood by with a flask as the covered dish was placed before the king. Fíli joined him with a small lighted torch. Thorin got excited. The cover lifted and Thorin actually squealed with excitement. But it still got better. Bombur carefully poured the elven brandy over the top. Fíli swirled the torch and barely touched the flame to the fumes rising off the alcohol. With a loud whooshing, the flambé burst to life. Thorin bounced in his chair and clapped. Bombur swirled the lid and closed it briefly to extinguish the flame. When he raised it again, the desert was ready to eat.

Thorin cut himself a large piece.

Not much later, all across the hall, dwarves and hobbits leaned back in their chairs burping and rubbing their bellies. “So full…” was commonly heard. The elves refused to look anything but sedate and unaffected. Somewhere in their number, a fart escaped.

One hobbit came out and asked if anyone wanted coffee. The dwarves burst out laughing.

“Bwahahahahahaha!”

“Save that for morning, laddie!”

From a side door, barrels of ale came rolling out.

Tables were shoved against walls or quickly disassembled.

Then the dancing started.

Fíli and Kíli made the first exit. Both had a bottle of champagne shoved up each sleeve. They were leaning heavily against each other as they walked, coronets askew.

Nori looked at Bofur, “Neither of them is getting it up tonight,” he slurred, “too drunk.”

Bofur raised his eyebrows in a questioning expression, “Is yours still working?”

Nori looked down at his pants, “Not sure. Wanna go find out?”

Nori produced a couple rounds of Brie that he had hidden under his napkin. Bofur smiled and showed off an unopened bottle of Riesling before grabbing Nori’s free hand and wandering away.

They passed Gimli snoring in a corner between his father and Dáin. Both laughed.

Thorin stood shakily and drunkenly addressed anyone still capable of paying attention. “My subjects, Bim,” he hiccoughed, “Bilbo and I are retiring for the evening. Party on.”

He took Bilbo’s hand and they shuffled away, intent on making it to their bed before falling asleep.

Somewhere deep in the mass of drunken, sated revelers, a voice answered, “Be excellent, your majesty.”


End file.
